


The Suitor

by cblavoie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cblavoie/pseuds/cblavoie
Summary: A gentleman keeps dropping by the shop. While Aziraphale is thrilled to have a new friend, Crowley fights down jealously. Is the angel really that naive to not see he's being courted?  Will it be enough to finally push Crowley to act?Be gentle, it's my first fan-fic I've ever written, had this little plot bunny stuck in my head and had to get her out!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 176





	The Suitor

“I met the most charming man today, Crowley” the angel Aziraphale casually mentioned while pouring the demon Crowley another glass of wine.  
The demon sat up a bit straighter. “oh?” He encouraged, not liking where this was headed.  
“He came in looking for a first edition Oscar Wilde—naturally I didn’t sell him one, but we had a wonderful conversation for nearly an hour! It’s been ages since I’ve met a human so well read!” Crowley humphed in return and swallowed his entire glass of wine in one gulp.  
“Lotsa well read people out there angel, thought you hated customers,” he replied acerbically.  
The angel eyed him a moment before answering. “Well, usually yes, but he didn’t try to purchase anything, and conversation is enjoyable on occasion.”  
Crowley tensed. They had plenty of conversations but surely the angel was entitled to befriend who he wished. There was no reason for jealousy. Pushing the thoughts aside, he reached for the bottle. “What do you say we order in some food, Angel?”  
Hours later, they lounged comfortably together on the sofa, takeout boxes and wine bottles littering the table, jealousy long forgotten.

Two days later, the jealousy was back with a vengeance. It had begun with Aziraphale offering Crowley a biscuit. Not just any biscuit. “Glen baked these himself! They’re just scrumptious, you really must try one, dear.” Crowley pushed the cutesy biscuit tin away as Aziraphale enthusiastically recounted the events of the morning. Now the charming bastard had a name, Glen. And biscuits—not just biscuits, homemade biscuits. Crowley’s traitorously human stomach twisted a bit.  
“Angel, what do you say we go to the Ritz for dinner?” He suggested before even fully forming the thought in his mind, interrupting the angel’s monologue. Aziraphale lit up, conversation, biscuits, and now dinner with his best friend at his favorite restaurant made this a truly wonderful day. 

Aziraphale knew he could be perceived as naive at the best of times, but even he knew when he was being courted. The first day Glen arrived at the shop, he had enjoyed the friendly conversation and thought nothing more of it. When Glen continued to stop by, using the age old “I was in the neighborhood” excuse, and then arrived with homemade biscuits, Aziraphale knew he to put a stop to the wooing. However, there was no reason he couldn’t use the opportunity to give Crowley a little nudge. If he had read the demon’s expression that first evening correctly, and after 6 millennia he was sure he had, Crowley was definitely jealous. The look on his face when shown the biscuits proved it. The problem was, Aziraphale had no idea where to go from there. He couldn’t lie and feign interest in Glen, but how could he show Crowley it was the demon himself that interested him, not a mere mortal.  
Aziraphale’s thoughts were interrupted by the tinkling of the bell over the door. Glen entered with a wide smile and single red rose in his hand. To the angel’s shock, he greeted Aziraphale with a tight hug.  
“Good morning! I was out for a stroll and a lady was selling these beautiful roses, I just couldn’t say no, so since I was in the neighborhood…” Glen smiled broadly. “I was hoping to take you to lunch today, somewhere cozy.”  
Aziraphale stood speechless a moment before stuttering, “Thank you, dear boy, it’s just, I, you see—“  
“Oh, come now, we’re a lot alike, you and I. Both book worms, both perhaps a bit old-fashioned, it’s hard to find another man… interested, you know?” Glen smoothly replied, reaching for Aziraphale’s hand. It was hard to deny, they were quite similar in some ways: Glen was middle aged, distinguished greying hair, articulate, in a soft cream suit and tie, and clearly well-read and intelligent, and gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide.  
“it’s just, I, I have a boyfriend!” Aziraphale blurted. Glen looked surprised and a bit skeptical. “His name is Anthony,” he continued, in for a penny and all.  
Glen didn’t seem to be disturbed by Aziraphale’s admission at all; if anything, he appeared more determined. “I certainly don’t see anyone here, dear, if he cared about—“  
He was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell over the door.  
“Oi, Angel, I brought scones from that bakery down the street!” Crowley called as he sauntered through the door. He paused a moment, taking in the scene before him, Glen’s hand clutching Aziraphale’s, the desperation written on his angel’s face. “Oh, you have company,” he purred, walking to Aziraphale’s side.  
“Anthony! So glad you’re here, darling. This is the gentleman I’ve been telling you about!” Aziraphale said brightly, jumping at the chance, hoping Crowley would catch on by the use of his human name. Crowley swallowed, hoping he wasn’t reading the situation wrong. Throwing caution to the wind, he threw his arm around Aziraphale and turned to Glen, who had gone red in the face.  
“Pleasure to meet you, Gary,” he smirked.  
Glen turned to Aziraphale. “I just remembered I’m to be in a meeting in just a few minutes, I’ll see you around!” He hurried out the door, muttering about his rotten luck. If by some small miracle he ran into a similarly dressed man holding an Oscar Wilde novel who was also feeling down on his luck in the romance department, well, sometimes love is mysterious.  
Aziraphale turned his face shyly towards Crowley, who still had his arm slung around him. “Thank you dear, I do hope I haven’t offended you.”  
Crowley looked at him cautiously. “Just what would I be offended by?” he asked.  
“Well, I DID perhaps imply that we were… together, and I’m sure you wouldn’t, I mean I know you don’t feel as I—“ Aziraphale was cut off by Crowley’s lips on his. Crowley pulled away, unsure what to expect. He hadn’t exactly thought it through. He braced himself for the rejection that was sure to come, cursing himself for going too fast. To his surprise, the angel’s lips found his this time. They relaxed into the kiss, arms holding each other, lips exploring tentatively at first, then increasing in passion and all the feelings millennia of repressed love can hold.  
Several hours later, after cuddling, kissing, and exploring the new chapter of their relationship, Crowley growled, “No more suitors, Angel. For someone so clever, you are—“ Aziraphale cut him off laughing.  
“I knew I was being courted, dear.” Crowley stared incredulously. “I did know—I just may have used the opportunity to my advantage.” At Crowley’s blank stare, he continued, “Well, it’s just if I could make you jealous, I’d be sure to know you returned my feelings, you see my dear—“  
It was Crowley’s turn to laugh. “Returned your feelings? Angel, I’ve been in love with you since the literal dawn of time!” He peppered Aziraphale’s face with gentle kisses. “But you are a right bastard using that poor man to make me jealous,” he grinned mischievously.  
Aziraphale smirked back. “I’m sure he’ll be quite all right. He’s not the first man to attempt to court me. Perhaps the two of them may meet someday…”


End file.
